Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Luigi pulls his eyes into slits. His hold on the gun slackens, the weight of the weapon pulling his arm down.
Motherfucker.
Luigi has always been greedy. I guess it takes one to know one. That’s what Raphael is cashing in on, and I see the exact moment that Luigi’s greediness wins over his common sense. The smile that curves Raphael’s lips says the son of a bitch knows he’s won.
“One year,” Luigi says. “And the wedding will go ahead as planned.”
“Deal.” Raphael extends a hand. “I’m glad you’re a reasonable man.”
Luigi accepts with a handshake. “But if you fail, the Morelli territory you manage is mine, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes myself.”
“I better not fail then. Elena is very fond of me. Losing her husband will break her heart.”
I don’t think so. Judging by the irritated glances Elena sent him at the club, she’ll only be too happy if someone puts her betrothed six feet under.
“Gentlemen,” Raphael says, saluting Giorgio and me as he walks from the room with his blood-soaked shoes.
I stare after him. If Giorgio is a loose cannon, Raphael is an untrustworthy snake. I’d take ten of Giorgio over one of Raphael any day. I’m going to keep even closer tabs on that cunning bastard.
“Get this fucking mess cleaned up,” Luigi says, waving his cane on his way to the door.
My phone pings in my pocket. I take it out. It’s Kevin, letting me know he arrived. I send a reply, telling him I’ll drive Anya myself after all.
On my way out, I fire off a message to Dante, informing him of what happened and ordering him to double our resources on Raphael. I want reports on his every move.
“Hey,” Giorgio says behind me. “Where are you going?”
“You heard your father.” I don’t look back as I head through the door. “Get this mess cleaned up.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Anya
Saverio is quiet on the way home. Two of their men are dead. Giorgio said so on the phone. Why? What happened at the club? Something terrible for sure. I both can’t stand being in the dark and don’t want to get dragged deeper into Saverio’s sinister crime world.
The less I know, the better.
As always, he’s attentive when we arrive home, cooking me dinner and making sure I have everything I crave, but he’s distracted.
When I come out of the bathroom after my shower with a towel wrapped around my body, he sits on the edge of the bed.
I give a start.
He seemed so occupied during dinner, I expected him to work on the problem or to go for a long jog like he does to blow off steam. The quiet, serious energy surrounding him gives me pause. The vibe that emanates from him is dark and ominous. Whatever went down at Obsidian put him in this mood.
I make a ninety degree turn and walk as fast as my feet can carry me to the dressing room, but I’m halfway across the floor when he stops me with a single word.
“Anya.”
It’s not that he addresses me that halts my steps. It’s how he says my name—with a warning.
Reluctantly, I face him. He’s still dressed in those fancy suit pants and the black, slim-fitted shirt that shows off his muscles. The first three buttons are undone, exposing his hard chest with the deep groove between his pecs. He looks both hot and dangerous, so dangerous that I don’t dare to argue when he tells me, “Come here.”
I walk back slowly and stop a few paces from him. He trails his gaze from the messy bun on my head to my bare feet. Every inch of me feels exposed under his scrutiny. I’m not shy, but I don’t measure up to his perfection. I could never drop my towel with the self-confidence he showed this morning.
Spreading his legs, he points between them. “Here.”
I swallow, remembering the spanking he promised me this morning. “Why?”
“Are you really going to make this harder on yourself?”
“You said—”
“I’m not a good or honest man. You should’ve figured that out by now.”
My heart starts pounding. He’s right. He’s not a good or safe man. I never needed to figure that one out. He just confuses me when he’s so kind. His gentle and sweet acts lure me into thinking I have a measure of power, that what I want and think matter, and that he’d consider my feelings. But standing in front of him now, I realize what a mistake that was. I should never underestimate him or let my guard down with this man who’s capable of the worst kind of violence.
I remember that time in my kitchen so vividly that my body responds to the memory with heat sparking in my belly. It’s enough to want to stall even though I shouldn’t test his patience.
“Why?” I ask again.